


The Tender Heart

by Cleverboots (Amberlovesocean)



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberlovesocean/pseuds/Cleverboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story about understanding between Kurt and his shy boyfriend, Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tender Heart

**The Tender Heart**

 

 

Blaine was panting, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in every joint of his body as the blood rushed through his veins to bring oxygen back to his over-stressed muscles.

“Are you okay, baby?” Kurt asked, becoming concerned when Blaine didn't speak.

“Yeah....just, ah...winded. Wait a sec...” he replied, closing his eyes to concentrate on slowing his heart, slowing his breath, slowing his thoughts down to human levels.

Kurt rubbed his back gently, searching his mind to find calming words to help, but none came to him. He could tell, however, that his touch was doing something to Blaine, making his breath less panicky at the very least. Kurt continued, now running his hands across Blaine's chest, avoiding his nipples, and down his arms.

“C'mere,” he asked, his hand going behind Blaine's head to cradle it and bring it to rest on his chest as he laid back on his pillow. It was a few minutes later that Blaine's heartbeat was normal and he lay cuddled close to Kurt's side.

 

X#X#X#X

 

The afternoon had been warm when the two boys left school, the wind calmer than it had been in days. The leaves had turned red, brown, gold, and fallen from the trees during the last few weeks and the wind took them in swirling patterns only to drop them on the lawns and sidewalks of Lima, Ohio. The unseasonable warmth had encouraged the two boys to walk to school that morning from Kurt's house and since it was an early-release day, they walked home again to eat lunch.

Getting a lead on their homework after lunch soon turned into a make-out session and things had gone farther than they had before.

“Kurt, can we, ah...can we take off our shirts?” Blaine had asked and Kurt was fine with that. It had led to removing more clothes and then to touching and hugging and getting under the blankets of Kurt's bed to take off the last bits of clothing for the first time. There weren't many words exchanged during this, and both boys got more excited than they knew was possible as they experienced something new with each other.

Rutting their bodies together, rubbing and some help from anxious fingers had ended in the first shared orgasms of their relationship and ultimately to Blaine drawing comfort from his boyfriend in his bed after the fact.

 

“Did I, ah, did I make too much noise?” Kurt asked, shy now that it was over. They had cleaned up, separately, in Kurt's bathroom and come back to snuggle under the covers, underwear and jeans back in place in case Burt were to come home from work early.

“No, of course not. I like the noises you make, Kurt. As a matter of fact, those were a hot part of the whole seduction,” he said, blushing at his words. He didn't think he minded speaking to Kurt like this, but it was new and he wasn't sure of himself yet.

“I liked yours, too,” Kurt murmured. He chanced a glance at Blaine and saw that he was shy about this conversation, too. Kurt's heart went out to him and he wanted to do something to make this easier for Blaine. He knew the boy was shy – Kurt had asked him six times before Blaine agreed on going out for coffee. It took seven long months to reach this stage where they were doing something physical other than kissing.

Kurt leaned forward, kissing Blaine's red cheek. He pulled back, studying Blaine's face to be sure he was okay with that.

“Did you like the rest of it?” Blaine whispered, almost afraid of what Kurt might say – he tended to be very outspoken in a way that Blaine never was.

“Yes, I did,” Kurt smiled at his boyfriend, perhaps giving him a boost of ego might help to bring out the bolder part of his personality?

“Me, too,” Blaine said, then hid his face in Kurt's neck for a moment, trying to gather courage to speak again. Kurt recognized what was happening and put his arms around the shy boy, kissing his ear. He grinned to see goose-bumps form on Blaine's arms. Kurt leaned back, letting go of his tight hold. His eyes were still looking at Blaine – his muscled arms and abs that appeared as if he had been working out a bit. His skin was a beautiful tawny gold, as if he had a perpetual suntan even in winter. Kurt was appreciating the muscles as they moved under the soft skin when he noticed what he thought was a shadow – but it moved with Blaine as he moved, not like a shadow.

“What's this?” Kurt asked, touching just outside the dark skin and looking intently at it. “Is this...bruised?”

“No. It...it's just the color of my skin. Nothing to worry about,” Blaine said, thinking quickly to change the subject. “Hey, let's go over the English papers one more time. I want to make sure I caught all the punctuation errors.” His voice faded at the end and he blinked, now trying to pretend he wasn't crying.

“Hey, baby, don't worry. You know you can trust me, right?” Kurt asked, remembering to be gentle. Blaine was fragile sometimes and Kurt didn't want to upset him – but if someone was abusing him, Kurt needed to know that, too.

“Yes, of course I trust you!” Blaine shouted, then realized he was raising his voice at the boy he loved and promptly stopped. Tears formed slowly at the corners of his eyes and Kurt rushed forward to wipe them with his fingers.

“Then tell me, sweetheart, who did this to you?”

Blaine hung his head, not wanting Kurt to know about it.

“It was a mistake. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time is all. It's okay, it'll heal,” Blaine said quietly.

Kurt had often wondered about Mr. Anderson. The man was not friendly towards Kurt and he knew from Rachel, who lived on the same street as Blaine, that Mr. Anderson could be a bit rash and quick with both his voice and hands when it came to discipline. Blaine never said a word against his family and very rarely invited Kurt to visit. He much preferred to visit Kurt's house. Kurt wondered if Blaine was perhaps hiding something.

“Did...did your dad do this?” Kurt asked. Blaine inhaled loudly.

“No! Kurt, my dad would never strike me! Not hard enough to cause a bruise. What are you thinking?” Blaine exclaimed, his sober hazel eyes looking at Kurt with hurt as he backed away from him on the bed.

“Nothing, nothing. I'm sorry I said that,” Kurt backpedaled.

“No, something made you jump to that conclusion, what was it? Did you hear rumors or something? Did Cooper say anything?” Blaine asked, wondering if his brother had been trying to joke and Kurt had misinterpreted it.

“Clam down, Blaine. I didn't mean to upset you. It bothers me that you have a huge bruise on your ribs and you are trying to cover up how you got it. Excuse me if I care about you,” Kurt snapped at Blaine, his own feelings hurt now.

The two stared at each other for a few moments, then Blaine got up and found the two shirts on the chair, handing Kurt's to him and putting his own back on. Kurt saw the grimace on his face when he stretched his arms up to slide the sleeves of the polo shirt on. The bruises on his ribs were obviously painful.

Blaine put on his socks – the aqua ones with forest green stripes that Kurt got him for his birthday – and stuffed his bow tie into his pocket. Kurt sat on the side of his bed, trying to think of something to say to keep Blaine from leaving. He'd messed up and wanted to fix it, although he really thought it was half Blaine's fault.

Blaine gathered his books and put them in his bookbag. Then he finally looked at Kurt, seeing the hurt on his face.

“Kurt, I just...I...well, it's just...” was all Blaine could stammer. He had no words to make this better now. Tears threatened and he wanted to leave quickly so Kurt didn't see him cry. Hurrying across the room to leave, Blaine tripped on the throw-rug that was in front of the door and fell, his foot tangled under him.

“Blaine!” Kurt shouted as he saw his boyfriend fall. He tried to get there in time, but it was over eight feet away and Blaine was rolling on his back by the time Kurt got to him. He quickly but very gently untangled the foot from the rug and then picked Blaine up, carrying him to his bed. Kurt put him down as softly as he could and put his arms around him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, now trying to pull up his pants leg to see the ankle. Blaine pushed his hands away and untied his shoe, sliding it off carefully to look at the damage.

Both of them looked at the ankle, seeing it practically swell before their eyes.

Kurt helped scoot Blaine up on the bed and gently pushed him back to lie down. He brought two pillows and put Blaine's foot up.

“Okay, baby, I'm going to get some ice for that. Just stay here with the foot elevated, okay?”

Blaine nodded, his eyes red and raw as he watched Kurt leave the room.

 

It was maybe five minutes and Kurt was back with a bag of frozen peas and a small kitchen towel. He put the towel on Blaine's ankle and the frozen peas on top of that.

“This works better than ice – it forms to your ankle. I also brought some aspirin to keep down the swelling a bit. Here,” Kurt offered the two pills and then helped hold the glass of water for Blaine as he swallowed them.

“Do you think it's broken?” Blaine asked.

“I didn't hear a bone snap, but I don't know. Maybe I should take you to the ER?”

“No. Let's just stay here and see how it does. I don't want to go if it isn't necessary,” Blaine said. He was still looking at Kurt with sad eyes.

“Hey, Blaine, I really didn't mean to say anything to upset you, you know - before. I honestly just wanted to take care of you. When you wouldn't tell me how you got that terrible bruise, my mind went to the worst possible explanation. Please forgive me?” Kurt asked, looking at Blaine with some pretty expressive eyes of his own.

“I'm sorry I got upset. Of course you're forgiven. I'm so used to hiding my feelings and not saying anything when something is bothering me – sometimes I forget how easy it can be to talk to you. We can talk about it now if you want?” Blaine offered.

“How about a kiss to bind the truce?” Kurt asked, Blaine giggled and Kurt kissed him.

“Shall I call your mother?” Kurt asked.

“No, let's just see how it looks in an hour – if I can stay here?” Blaine asked, his face showing his feelings. He did not want to go home now.

“Blaine, you can stay here any time you like. Dad won't mind. We were going to have movie night tomorrow anyway, this will just start a day sooner,” Kurt said, thinking it would be a better solution than trying to get Blaine home.

“Sure, I'll text my mom after supper. She won't mind,” Blaine agreed.

 

They sat together for a while, Kurt checking on the progress of the swelling in Blaine's ankle every so often, taking the frozen peas off for five minutes every fifteen to avoid any problems.

“Is it any better?” Blaine asked.

“No, actually it's a bit worse. How about we do something to cut the boredom. Want to cuddle?”

“Yes, just be careful of my bruises,” Blaine smiled, scooting his butt close to Kurt on the bed.

“Do you want to tell me where they came from? I think by now you can trust me?” Kurt asked, the answer burning a hole in his brain.

“Okay, but it has to remain between us, okay?”

“Sure, Blaine. That goes without saying. Have I ever given you reason to distrust me?” Kurt asked.

“No. Okay, I have been going after school on Wednesday and Friday to learn to...box. Now, don't make fun of me, I know I'm a munchkin...”

“I never called you that!”

“No, but Santana calls me 'little lover' or 'cheeseball', and it doesn't take much effort on her part to get everyone else to call me those names. I don't need it from you, too.”

“Oh, Blaine. So what if you're short? Look at Napoleon Bonaparte, he was short and chubby and had his hand in his coat at all times,” Kurt laughed.

Blaine fake-punched him in the shoulder.

“Napoleon? Really?” Blaine said, giving Kurt a hard look.

“I meant that Napoleon was successful and a leader in spite of his stature,” Kurt tried to cover. Blaine just laughed. “Sure you did.”

They laughed for a while, then Kurt turned to Blaine and put his arms around him.

“You know I'm just teasing, right?” he asked as he kissed his boyfriend's hair.

Blaine snuggled closer and leaned his head into the warm place between Kurt's shoulder and chin.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you know I love you?” Kurt asked, stroking his fingers down Blaine's arm.

“Yes, I know. I love you, too,” Blaine whispered into Kurt's neck, his arm around Kurt's waist tightening.

“Let's just rest for a while. Dad should be home soon, I think. Maybe he can look at your ankle,” Kurt said. He scooted down so he was lying next to Blaine.

Blaine closed his eyes. His ankle was hurting a lot, but he didn't want to appear to be some sort of cry-baby, so he swallowed his tears and tried to relax and go to sleep for a while. He wanted to be here with Kurt, his strong arms protecting him from the rest of the world for a while. He wondered, not for the first time, what he had done to be rewarded with Kurt's love. He slowly drifted off to sleep, safe in his boyfriend's arms.

 

The ache in his ankle woke Blaine after an hour. The house felt different to him somehow, as if he had fallen asleep in one place and woken up in another. He looked up to see Kurt's beautiful blue eyes looking back at him and he smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself, beautiful. Is your ankle hurting?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, a bit,” Blaine admitted.

“Okay, I think Dad is home. I'll go get him and he can take a look – if that's okay?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, thank you,” Blaine agreed. He didn't want anyone to look at his ankle, but he also didn't want to argue. From the pain he could tell that this wasn't something he could just 'walk off' as his father would have told him to do. He shivered, thinking about how his dad was going to take this injury. Maybe he could say he got it doing something athletic? No. Blaine couldn't condone lying about it – even to make things better. He sighed, waiting for Kurt to come back with his father.

 

It wasn't but a few minutes before Burt Hummel walked into the room, a slow smile forming on his face as he saw Blaine.

“Kurt tells me you hurt your ankle. Would you like me to have a look at it?” Burt asked, being gentle as if Blaine were a small frightened animal he found in the woods.

“Please, I'd appreciate that very much, Mr. Hummel, sir.”

“Oh, Blaine. You know you can call me 'Burt'. I'm not a 'sir' at all,” Burt chuckled. He and Blaine had had this conversation more than once.

Burt sat on the side of the bed, Kurt pulling back the blanket to show his dad the swollen ankle. While they had been sleeping, the ankle had swollen even more and was showing the deep red and purple of a bruise. Burt touched the skin, pulled taut with the swollen tissue underneath it. He gently picked up the foot, seeing if it was painful to bend.

Blaine let out a yelp, then tried to be quiet by putting his hand in his mouth, biting down on the fleshy side and blushing deep red at having given in to the pain. Burt set Blaine's foot back down on the pillow and covered it up with the blanket.

“Did you put ice on it?” he asked.

“Yes, I used a bag of frozen peas, which I took off every fifteen minutes like you taught me,” Kurt said. He was sitting on the other side of the bed, behind Blaine, and took the boy's hand in his to try and give him some comfort.

“I don't know if you broke anything in there, Blaine. You need to be seen by a doctor. How about I take you now?” Burt urged. He knew Blaine was resistant to the idea, but he really did need medical care.

“Ah...okay,” Blaine said. He was looking down at his knees, not at Burt.

“I can call your mom if you'd like?” Burt offered.

“No, please don't. I have my insurance card in my wallet. No need to worry my folks if we don't have to,” he said. Burt grunted, once again wondering why all parents weren't as supportive of their children as he was.

“Okay then. Kurt, if you would get the doors, we can get going. I'm going to carry you, Blaine. I don't think it's good for you to try to carry your weight on that ankle,” Burt told the shy boy. He lifted Blaine easily, holding him close to his chest as he navigated the hallway and stairs up to the main floor. Kurt opened the doors as they left the house and then opened the door to Burt's old chevy truck as Burt placed Blaine on the seat and scooted him into the middle of the seat. Kurt clambered in after, allowing Blaine to lean on him as Burt drove to the hospital.

 

X#X#X#X

 

A few hours later and they were back at the Hummel house. Blaine was in a brace with a bottle of pain medication. He was sitting on the sofa in the den with his leg propped up.

“I'm glad it isn't broken at least,” Burt tried to assure his son's friend.

“Me, too. Thank you for taking me to the hospital. I appreciate that so much,” Blaine said, giving Burt one of his rare but shy smiles.

“Get some rest, kid. Sprains can hurt worse than a broken bone the doctor said. Kurt will bring you some supper in here if you don't want to sit at the table?”

“Oh, I can sit at the table, no need to go to any extra effort,” Blaine was quick to say. He didn't want to be the cause of any trouble.

“Why don't we all have supper in here? I'll set up some trays and we can watch a movie while we eat?” Kurt offered. He didn't want Blaine to feel awkward – or at least any more awkward than he was already.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Burt grinned. “Can I help with fixing the meal?”

“I have it all under control, Dad, if you just want to set the trays?”

“Consider it done,” Burt smiled. He turned to Blaine. “How about I go get the things to set the trays while you call your mom. I know Kurt would love to have you over for the weekend, if that's okay with your folks?”

“Thank you, sir. I'll give her a call now,” Blaine agreed.

 

xxx

 

“Mom? It's Blaine. Is it okay if I spend the weekend with Kurt? We have a project in English and we could probably finish it early if I stay here to work on it,” Blaine started.

“Well, I suppose so. Are you sure that's okay with his parents? I don't want you to be a burden, young man,” Mrs. Anderson replied, a bit distracted.

“No, it's fine with his dad. Oh, and I fell and hurt my ankle. It swelled and I couldn't walk on it, so I had to go to the hospital to have it looked at. It's sprained and they gave me a brace and crutches. It's fine now, I'll just have to go back in two weeks to have it looked at again. No worries.” He said this very quickly, hoping his mother wouldn't make a fuss about it or tell his father.

“Do I need to come get you? I don't want to bother the Hummers with your injury,” she said, sounding concerned. Blaine tried to tell himself it was concern for his well being, but he knew deep down that she was merely concerned with not looking bad in front of other people.

“It's _Hummel_ , Mother, not Hummer, and no, it's no bother. Don't even give it another thought,” Blaine attempted to placate her.

“All right, if you say so. Call me if you need to. Have a good weekend,” she said.

“Thanks, I will,” Blaine said back, “Bye.”

“Good bye, Blaine.”

 

There, done. He had the whole weekend with Kurt now. Blaine smiled.

Burt walked back in the room, smiling at Blaine.

“Is everything okay with you staying?” he asked.

“Yes, Mother said it was fine as long as I wasn't a burden to you,” Blaine said.

“Well, you're never that. We're always happy to have you over,” Burt said, setting a table-tray in front of Blaine. “I know Kurt enjoys having company,” he continued, setting two more table-trays for himself and Kurt, then setting the silverware and napkins for each. “What would you like to drink?”

“Anything is fine, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said.

“Easier if you tell me something so I don't have to guess,” he teased the boy, grinning.

“Oh!” Blaine hurried to fix his mistake, “I would love to have iced tea, if that is okay?”

“One iced tea coming up,” Burt said, flashing a big smile at Blaine before leaving to get the drinks.

Soon he was back, with glasses of iced tea for everyone. Kurt followed with open-faced turkey sandwiches, smothered in gravy, and salad on the side. He set a plate in front of Blaine before sitting down next to him in the over-stuffed chair. Burt was in his recliner that reminded Kurt of the one Frasier's father had on the sit-com.

They watched the movie while they ate, laughing at the antics of the people on the screen. Kurt didn't care for sports and Burt didn't like Disney, so they usually compromised with an old movie from the 1930s. Tonight they were watching The Thin Man.

The evening was pleasant, everyone eating and the conversation was good. Afterwards Burt had to tell Blaine to get back on the sofa while he and Kurt cleaned up.

“Your ankle isn't going to heal if you're up walking on it too soon, mister,” Burt reprimanded the boy. Blaine blushed to have caused Burt to raise his voice. He scrunched into the corner of the sofa, apologizing to Burt for causing trouble.

“Hey, kid, I'm just looking out for you. Kurt and I don't mind doing the washing up. Here, look and see what's on that you might like to watch. We'll be done in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

Blaine thanked him, but stayed curled up in the corner of the sofa just the same. He browsed the offerings for the evening, deciding on a soccer match.

 

xxx

 

“Hey, sport, what's up with your friend? He's really jumpy this evening,” Burt noted, standing in the kitchen drying plates.

“He's just...ah...sensitive? I don't know why. I suspect it has something to do with his home life, but he's never really said. Why, did you scare him?” Kurt asked, staring at his father.

“Nah, he was going to help me clear the trays and I told him to stay on the sofa, he has to take care of that ankle if he wants it to heal,” Burt told his son.

“Okay. I don't understand what it is about his folks – he never talks about them, or about his life at home. It's all a big mystery. He enjoys coming here, so I invite him. He's good company and we get along well.” Kurt smiled at his dad, feeling a bit guilty for not explaining that he and Blaine were now boyfriends. He'd just recently come out to his dad and talking about things like boyfriends and relationships was still a delicate subject as far as Kurt's comfort level was concerned.

Burt nodded. He understood that some things were hard for Kurt to talk about and he allowed Kurt the right to bring up subjects or to bow out of an uncomfortable conversation when he needed to. This seemed to be one of those cases. They finished the washing up and Burt folded the tea towel he'd been drying the plates with and hung it up.

“I think I better get Blaine down to the bedroom and let him sleep. He's had a rough day, what with spraining his ankle and all,” Kurt said.

“Can you do that, or do I need to carry him down?” Burt asked.

“Some help would be appreciated, I think. He isn't used to the crutches yet and the stairs are hard to navigate. I'll go let him know,” Kurt smiled, then went back and gave his dad a huge hug.

“Thank you, Dad. I love you,” Kurt said as they walked into the den. Blaine was asleep on the sofa, curled in on himself.

“Aw, I hate to disturb him,” Burt laughed.

“Blaine, wake up for a minute,” Kurt called to him.

Blaine shook his head, trying to dash the sleep from his eyes as he blinked up at the father and son standing before him.

“Oh! Sorry, I must have dozed off,” he said, looking first at Burt then at Kurt.

“I'm going to carry you down to Kurt's room, then you can go right back to sleep. Okay?”

“Yes...thank you,” Blaine replied.

 

Once Blaine was settled in the big queen-sized bed, Kurt hugged his dad and said goodnight. Burt bade Blaine a good night, also, and disappeared up the stairs.

 

“How about a pair of my pajamas?” Kurt offered.

“Thank you,” Blaine smiled, his eyes on Kurt. They got ready for bed, Kurt helping Blaine because of the brace on his ankle.

“I'm tired, how about you?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, me, too. Thank you for letting me stay with you for the weekend. It was awfully kind of your father to agree to that,” Blaine said.

“Agree? It was his idea. He likes you, Blaine. I keep telling you.”

Blaine was quiet for a bit, trying to form words, but that failed him.

“Can we talk about something we started to say earlier?” Kurt asked in a quiet voice. He didn't want to make Blaine uncomfortable, but he really wanted to know more about the bruise on his ribs.

“About what, exactly?” Blaine asked, his voice showing his distrust.

“Just...ah....I had asked about that awful bruise on your ribs. I think you said you had taken up – boxing?”

Blaine blushed. He didn't want to go there, the boxing lessons were private and he didn't want to answer questions about it. At the same time, Kurt was his boyfriend and he did trust him.

“It's hard to talk about,” he started.

Kurt scooted closer and took Blaine in his arms. He kissed his hair and snuggled him close against his body. He'd already given him two of the narcotic pain pills so he could be more comfortable.

“There, do you feel safe with me, Blaine?”

Blaine sat still, then allowed his muscles to relax as he cuddled next to Kurt – his face next to Kurt's neck where he smelled of his Rain cologne and his skin was so soft and welcoming. It was here that Blaine felt the safest. He was overjoyed that Kurt let him do this.

“Yes, Kurt, I do. I apologize for being so mysterious. I don't mean to be. I just ….I'm not....erg. I have trouble talking about myself. I don't have any secrets from you, Kurt, at least not deliberately. I am not used to sharing my thoughts with anyone, you know?”

“I won't tell anyone what you say to me, here in private. I promise. Tell me what you feel comfortable saying, okay?”

“Okay. I was having problems with some bullies – some guys from my old school in Westerville. That's why we moved I think. Father said it was because of his job, but....” Blaine was at a loss for words once again.

“I understand. Do your parents know you're gay?”

“I really don't know. I never had a boyfriend to bring home to meet them, so the subject never came up. I didn't tell them that was the reason those boys picked on me. Father thought it was because I didn't want to play football or baseball at school, but I'm just too little to get by with that. One tackle and I'd be shmushed.”

“Yeah, I'm not such a big fan of organized sports, either.” Kurt agreed. “But...boxing?”

“I needed to know I could defend myself. I started by taking martial arts, but a few of the bullies wee in that class and I didn't feel safe. Then I saw an ad for boxing lessons over in west Lima. None of the jocks go over to that part of town, so I felt safe enough to go there. I'm getting pretty good at it, I've been taking classes for almost a year now,” Blaine said.

“I was sparring with the gym owner's son – he's a few years older than I am and about a hundred pounds heavier I think. Anyway, I turned to avoid a right cross and he got me in the ribs. He felt bad about it, but I could tell it was an accident. I learned from it. They taped it up for a while, it is healing – it has faded quite a bit. I guess I'll have to postpone the lessons for a while now, with the ankle and all.” Blaine closed his mouth, clamping his lips shut from the inside with his teeth.

“Hey, that's nothing to be ashamed of, baby. I think it's hot that you box. Do you have bouts?” Kurt asked, getting a a bit hard thinking of Blaine in the ring, sweating and punching.

“Only in the gym, I don't want to box in competitions or anything. I just wanted to know I could defend myself if need be.”

“Yeah, I get that. Maybe you can show me some moves tomorrow?” Kurt asked, his eyes pleading.

“Sure I can. Maybe one day you could come with me and watch me box at the gym?” Blaine ventured.

“I'd love that.”

 

“Do you win your fights?” Kurt asked, his eyes wide.

“A lot of the time. I don't do all that many, it's a small gym and most of the guys are a lot bigger than me. It's not as if I can go against some 170 pound guy with a 5 foot reach, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I want to see you spar, though. I can see you in those boxer shorts and big gloves, punching someone else in the ring...” Kurt imagined.

“It isn't like that most of the time. I usually punch a bag until I'm exhausted, then shower and go home to zonk out in my bed! It's exercise for me, getting out my aggressions on the bag instead of blowing up at school at the unfairness of my life. It's therapeutic, I guess.”

“Oh, I get that. Maybe I should join. Lord knows I have enough aggressions to get rid of in any given week,” he smirked, trying to make a joke out of it, but Blaine knew he was speaking the truth. He'd seen enough in the last year to know a little about what the daily life of Kurt Hummel was like. Maybe boxing would help.

“That answers the questions about the bruise - but what about the over-reaction over me mentioning your father? Do you want to talk about that – because I think that's the elephant in the room right now and I think we need to stop ignoring it. Tell me what's going on at home, Bee. I care about you and I want to know if anything is going on,” Kurt gave him a look that said he cared and wasn't going to back off without answers.

“Oh, Kurt....do we have enough time for this? It is long and involved and boring. I don't want to turn a good evening into a fight with you,” Blaine looked at Kurt with wide hazel eyes, the gold and tawny brown mixing into a beautiful shade of brown that told a story all on its own.

“Yes, Blaine. Tell me as much as you think I need to know, so I can be more supportive. It's essential that we understand each other so our relationship can be all that it can be. Do you see what I mean?” Kurt asked. His eyes searching and finding Blaine's, making a connection that made Blaine want to jump head-first into this new level of friendship.

“Okay....but no judging. I could not take your judgment right now, Kurt. Please?”

“I won't judge you, and vice versa?”

“Of course.”

 

“Well, you don't know my family well, and there's a reason for that. I'm not ashamed of you, please understand that first of all – but my family isn't very, ah understanding? Tolerant of individual differences? Let me explain...

“Do you remember when we went to see that movie with Helen Mirren? _The Queen_?”

“Yeah, she played Elizabeth II.”

“When she was in the forest and saw the red deer that was being stalked....and it was so beautiful, she shooed it away so it wouldn't be killed?”

“I remember the scene.”

“Well, I cried. I excused myself to the restroom, but that was just to hide my tears, Kurt. I'm so ashamed that I tear up and cry at _everything_.” Blaine hid his face deeper beside Kurt, squeezing his eyes shut to deny them the tears that are forming even as he is desperate not to cry over this, too.

“Hey, baby, come out here and talk to me. I don't mind that you cry, for goodness sake, it shows you have a heart. Why would I mind?” Kurt tried to coax his boyfriend to talk to him about this.

“Oh, Kurt...you don't understand. In my family, you just don't cry! The closest I ever saw my father show any emotion close to crying was at my grandmother's funeral. He blew his nose. Honestly, crying is the ultimate admission that you're weak. Weakness is not tolerated in the Anderson household. Ever.”

“Never?”

“When my cat died – I found her run over in the street when I walked home from school – I cried. I remember my parents looking at me as though I was walking around the house naked. It was that feeling of doing the wrong thing, something I knew was not allowed, in front of them. Mother's face as she told me I didn't not need to inflict my fee-ee-eelings upon the rest of the house was enough to stop the tears immediately. The look from my father – sort of an embarrassed shame on my behalf – and I just left. I found a box and a shovel and removed the cat myself. I buried her under the apple tree in the backyard. I was twelve. I cannot shed a tear for her to this day because my parents' faces loom up in front of me and I am shamed into silence.

“That is why I didn't want you to call my mother when I sprained my ankle.”

Kurt's arms tightened around Blaine.

“Oh, baby, I had no idea. How can you stand living with them?”

“They are good parents in so many ways, how can I condemn them for one character flaw? What would that say about _me_? No, it's easier not to show emotion around my house. It's like...I don't know...farting in public? They might pretend they don't know me, or that they aren't aware of anything untoward, but I know that they know and I'm ashamed.

“I was at a Cub Scout meeting when I was around seven. It was winter and the wind was cold. All the other boys were picked up by their folks, one by one, until I was the only one left. I was scared, then I was panicked – was my mother dead somewhere in a ditch? After an hour I started to walk home, although I was probably ten miles from my house, but I had no other idea of what to do and I could not stand on that corner for one more minute.

“Well, I started walking and about ten blocks later, I saw a car and my mother screeched to a stop beside me, opening the door. I burst into tears, so relieved that she wasn't dead. But she was unaware of that. She yelled at me, asking over and over if her service wasn't good enough for me. She said I was ungrateful and I knew to just close my mouth and not say anything more. It hurt then and it hurts now that she had no idea, then told me to stop crying. I learned not to allow myself to cry – about anything. I worry that all of this has made me unfeeling to others' pain, that I am no longer compassionate, that I have lost the ability to be sympathetic....” Blaine blinked his eyes, not allowing the tears to form. He bit down hard, grinding his teeth just that little bit to keep his voice from shaking and giving him away.

“Oh, Blaine...no, baby. You are the exact opposite! Who thought of having the student council 'adopt' an orphan in Guatemala from Christian Children's Fund? You. Who led the drive to raise money for the new wing on the humane society? You. Who organized the blood drive for the Red Cross? Who plays piano at the nursing home on Sundays for the residents who can't get out to go to church? For goodness sake, Blaine. You are by far the kindest, sweetest, most passionate person I have ever known. And....who has stolen my heart for all time? You, Blaine Devon Anderson. So, bring your tears, bring your tender heart and be mine forever.”

 

Blaine was very still, wondering if he heard Kurt correctly. Who was this mythical person Kurt saw? Him? It didn't seem likely – he was devoid of real feelings, his mother and father had made him that. How had Kurt managed to see past the facade and into his hidden heart?

“Blaine? Are you okay?” Kurt asked, concern showing on his face.

“Ah...yeah, I'm fine. Just fine,” Blaine said. He sat up, confused and dizzy from the narcotic medication.

“C'mere...” Kurt asked, smiling through his own tears. “I love you, don't you understand?”

Blaine shook his head, afraid to answer. If he acknowledged it, would Kurt still love him? He had to risk it...

“Yes...” he managed to squeak.

“Good. Please come back over here,” Kurt encouraged. “We can watch a movie if you like, or try to go back to sleep?”

“Ah...I just want...I want you to hold me, please?” Blaine asked, fearing the rejection that might come.

“Of course,” Kurt said, simple as that. His arms reached out and brought Blaine close. “Is this okay?” he asked as he pulled Blaine back under the blankets and tugged him close, kissing his cheek and along his jaw. Every few minutes he told Blaine how much he loved him, how much he meant in his life, how he had made the differences that Kurt had only dreamed about.

Finally, Blaine allowed himself to feel, to know in his bones that this amazing, marvelous person, Kurt Hummel, loved him. The tears built up and for the first time since he was a very young child, Blaine allowed them to run free, to spill over his cheeks and run down his chin. He cried tears of happiness, and of release, and of his love for Kurt. And Kurt did not get upset or angry – he just held on to Blaine and let him cry. He brushed the curls from his forehead, kissed his cheeks, and mopped the tears from his face with an edge of the sheet. When Blaine was done, he was exhausted.

“I love you, too, Kurt. Forever.”

Kurt hugged him one more time and they fell asleep, holding each other and safe in the knowledge that they had each other, that they were meant to be together.

 

~*~ THE END ~*~

 


End file.
